Blue soldiers on small aircraft that turned into snowmobiles dropped from the sky in triangular formation. Silver cross-bows on their backs and peaked hats. Not good. They supervised the hundreds of us women now working in the fields. Hourly a blue soldier marched another man through on his way to, we didn’t know. It was not good for the men because where their faces should be, there was nothing but a big hole, a tunnel three inches in diameter running through their bodies. Breath hole. Food hole. Shit hole. As if they were worms marching. Hard to say how, but I could tell the man just passing had learned to see. Since he could see, it wouldn’t be too long before he would learn to talk. I followed him.
Elizabeth Kerlikowske drives to teach and listens to NPR.
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